Twenty-eight years ago, the first large immigration of actual settlers for Oregon came down from the Dalles in boats, furnished them by the Hudson's Bay Company, with much toil and danger, and some loss of life. To-day, we tourists gaze and dream at our leisure, from the deck of a first-class steamer, with all our wants anticipated. In another lustre, or in less time than that, the travel and trade of one-third of the continent may be borne upon this great highway of Nature, to and fro, between Orient and Occident.
But we have forgotten to observe the notable places. "This," says our Captain, "is Wind Mountain. The Indian name answers to our word enchanted, from the fact, probably, that when the wind is foul it is impossible to pass here with their canoes." On the south side, a few miles above the Cascades, is the beautiful place of Mr. Coe—a fruit farm among the foot-hills, and facing the Columbia. Here grow such delicious peaches as are rarely ever raised west of the mountains. A little settlement, at the foot of the mountains, is called Hood River, from being near the junction of that river with the Columbia. Opposite the mouth of Hood River a very fine view of Mount Hood is obtained. So near does it seem, that we see the glistening of the snow where its cliffs reflect the sun. Nearly opposite, the White Salmon enters, cold from the snows of Mount Adams, a glimpse of which we catch between the cleft heights of the river's gorge.
The farther we depart from the heart of the mountains the more marked is the change in the character and quantity of the timber. Firs have entirely disappeared, while spruce and pine have taken their places. The form, too, of the highlands is changed, being arranged in long ridges, either parallel with the river or
